Baby Steps
by PenguinsWillReignSupreme
Summary: I don't need anybody" "Perhaps not, but I do"


**Title**: Baby Steps  
**Characters**: Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass  
**Pairing**: Theodore/Daphne

**Summary**: "I don't need anybody." "Perhaps not, but I do."

**

Theodore Nott sat in the shadows of the Charms section of the library, head buried in a book about Charms in the Middle Ages. He was taking refuge from the barrage of dirty comments and looks about his father, who this morning had been revealed as being part of a group of murderers of Muggles. To everyone else, it was a cruel crime, no justification possible. He knew it was a cover-up, that his father's name being mentioned probably meant that he had in some way defied the Dark Lord, that he could be dead at the moment not in Azkaban, as the paper said.

He thought he heard his name be mentioned somewhere in the distance, but today it had been a common occurrence. That was why he had chosen the floor to sit down on, not a table. In the shadows, he was out of sight. He could hide and pretend that nothing was happening. It was not their words that upset him, it was their interruptions to tell him something that he was quite aware of. They seemed astonished that he was not angry or upset by his father's actions merely indifferent which, apparently, was worse. He sighed and buried his head deeper in his book.

"Theodore?" the voice was quiet and nervous and he looked up from the book to see Daphne Greengrass step forward into the aisle, out of the view of the librarian's desk. "I haven't seen you all day."

"I've been in here," he replied with a shrug. She raised her eyes upwards for a second. "What do you want? If you've come to shout insults at me then wait until we're in the common room because the library really isn't the right place for that, Pince would kill you." Daphne sighed and sat down opposite him on the floor.

"I'm not here to accuse you of being something that you're not," she assured him. "I just thought you'd like someone to talk to."

"I'm fine," he responded, reverting his gaze to his book. Daphne sighed but he didn't look up again. His eyes scanned across the page, though wasn't really taking in what he was reading. It was difficult when you knew someone was staring at you.

"Is there a reason that you're so secretive?" she asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. The mysterious Theodore Nott, he who needed nobody, was a puzzle to everyone. Any girl who tried to chat him up, though they were few, found him insufferable and ignorant, and rumours had started to spread that his ignorance of women and men was down to asexuality. It was something that they had both laughed at different moments, she for its absurdity, he for the ignorance of people.

"I'm not secretive because I have no secrets to tell," he answered, his jaw set and annoyance creeping into his joints – they were stiffening, his body drawing inwards on itself. She groaned and he looked up. "What do you want, Daphne?" She smiled a little, happy that at least he felt they were on first name terms, a first for a Slytherin boy to one of Pansy's gang.

"I'm just…intrigued by you," she admitted. "I couldn't keep everything in like you do. You've been through a lot and yet you just…don't talk about it."

"I don't talk about it to _you_. Goyle would be likely to disagree," he drawled with a smirk on his face. Daphne's eyes widened and then he let out one laugh, short and sharp, and she shook her head. "I just don't take things to heart, Daphne. I don't need to talk about something that doesn't bother me."

She nodded her head solemnly. It made no sense. This boy had lost his mother, his father was a Death Eater being accused of murder, he hadn't befriended anybody, and yet he took it all with a pinch of salt. It was impossible to her.

"I don't need anybody, Daphne," he assured her, looking at her in an attempt at showing his honesty. She smiled sadly.

"Perhaps not, but I do." Her answer was quiet, even in terms of the library, but it was enough for him to close his book quietly and look up properly. "I need somebody who knows what it's like to lose their mother."

"You never said…" he trailed off. These days, deaths were a daily occurrence. They didn't even get reported any more, not unless it was someone important. His father had been high up in the Ministry under this new regime, it would have been suspicious had it not been reported.

"It was hushed up. The Ministry didn't want it to come out. They don't want many of them to come out. She was killed five months ago and I still don't know what to do." Her voice cracked and she stared up to a corner of the bookshelf, blinking away the tears. Theodore followed her gaze and shook his head.

"Daphne, I don't know what to say. I wish I do, I wish I had the right answer, the magic words but I don't. I'm not the talking type," he explained, stuttering his way through the sentence. This was possibly the longest conversation he'd had with a girl outside of lessons. "I deal with things by keeping them inside until they're filed away in the back of my mind, in a box. I know it's not healthy. I know people say you need to talk about such things but, for me, it just doesn't work."

"Have you ever tried?" She'd caught him out. "No, you haven't, because you've never had anyone willing to listen."

"My mother. She used to. When I was little and I wanted to talk about something, she listened. When she died, I just shut off. I don't talk about it because I still haven't come to terms with it," he murmured, pushing the book off his lap and leaning his head backwards. Daphne turned her head back. "I watched her die. I watched the car hit her. I watched her in the ambulance and I watched the Muggles step away and shake their heads. I don't listen, I don't participate, I just watch and observe. It's what I do."

"Can't you make the exception?" she asked, her voice small again. "I can't talk to my sister. She just cries all the time. My brother's in denial. He just puts on a tough face, pretends he's indifferent to it. I need to talk to someone who has come through it. Anyone."

"Try Hannah Abbott," he offered, the gesture intended to be kind though not coming off as such judging by the steely glare gracing his housemate's face, "Her mother died last year." Daphne groaned.

"I don't want to talk to Hannah Abbott, Theodore, when will you see?" she asked. His eyes widened, taken aback by her abruptness. "I want to talk to _you._"

"There's nothing special about me."

"But there is," she insisted, kneeling forwards and crawling across to him. He turned his head away, feeling the blush smooth over his cheeks as the girl stared at him. "There is just something about you that makes me tick. I don't know whether that will change if I ever get to know you better, but there's always been something interesting about you. Something different."

"I'm…" he trailed off, then looked over. Daphne Greengrass was by no stretch an ugly girl. She was better than Parkinson or Davies, but no Ginny Weasley or Cho Chang. Her dark blonde hair curled down her back, her nose was upturned but not like a snout, her eyes were lopsided and one was a bit bigger than the other, but all in all, she was not unattractive.

He, on the other hand, had long front teeth, a thin face and sullen, dull skin. His hair was short and mousey, his nose long and pointed. For her to choose him over Blaise or Malfoy was, quite frankly, absurd, and he wasn't up for being messed about.

"Come on, Greengrass, what's the motive?" he demanded after a pause. She looked taken aback and shook her head. Then, to his surprise, she ducked her head, paused inches from his face before leaning forwards and pressing her lips to his. Evidently, she knew it was his first since she drew back after a couple of seconds.

"That."

Theodore stared at her, just for a moment and a small smile spread across his face.

"I think that's enough," he murmured back. She smiled and dipped her head again. It wasn't perfect, it wasn't passionate, not yet, but it was sweet. It was quiet and secretive and untainted. It was just two teenagers in the midst of war, hurting and healing. They may only have been moving forward an inch at a time but it was enough.

**

A/N: People just keep challenging me to write Slytherins! So, I'm not too keen on this, mainly the middle part. Any views on how to improve it are very much appreciated!


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